Grey & Color
by A Vase of Empty Poppies
Summary: A knife, a scream, and seeing them run was apparently all it took to make her world lose even more of the color she never had. It was only now that she could appreciate being born colorblind. Without color, it was easier to see the truth. One-shot


December of 1982.

It looked warm out today, quite unusual.

It was the middle of December, but it felt like a prim spring afternoon. The humid air fell silently off her shoulders. The rays always had given her a glowing warmth on days like these, but without her flesh it gave her a more somber feeling. Creating an idea, knowledge, of the warmth that should be there.

 _The reds? The oranges?_ All of the colors that would tingle at her skin and reassure her she was alive. But now…how dull.

She surely wasn't alive anymore.

With a chain and bolt attached to her chest, there was no hope of anything inside her being " _alive"_ anymore.

No, it seemed she was stuck here, in some sort of limbo or earthly purgatory. She took the light, clinking chain between her hands and placed it in her lap. Lightly stroking at the metal with her fingertips, she sat. The gray links between her fingers reminding her of her _"death."_ All she could bring herself to think about since she had woken up that afternoon and found herself linked up to this park bench.

That night was coming up on three weeks now, but it felt fresh…dewy even. _"Yes, that's the word to describe it_ ," she smiled. Always new and always repeating the end that cemented what she, in her young and optimistic naivety, had tried fiercely to not believe.

"Truly alone," she whispered, her lips barely parting.

A knife, a scream, and seeing them run was apparently all it took to make her world lose even more of the color she never had. No more black. No more white. There was only grey.

It was only now that she could appreciate being born colorblind. Without color, it was easier to see the truth. Their faces had been white, but their eyes had been black; and in the end, her world was now littered with splotches of uninteresting greys.

She began to chuckle. It tinkled into a slow and steady flow of laughter, matching the flow of tears she felt. The chain became overtly noisy as she shook it in a quick, violent motion. Her frustrations pricking her with goosebumps rather than releasing. After all, she was the only one who could hear what she heard.

"Why?" she cried, hiccups catching in her throat, "Why do I have to sit here? I just want to leave."

The tears began falling on her legs faster, rolling off and through the bench cracks before dripping into nothingness. "I just want to leave!" the piercing shout escaped her throat. So, she was dead but she could still feel the pain of her own voice. " _Heh?"_

Her mind swimming in mush, more laughter bubbled up. But this time it was much more self-deprecating.

"Are you crying or laughing? I can't tell."

She stayed eyes faced down. The tremoring in her body slowly calming to a tremble. Just when she thought someone could speak to her—

"Either way, you look terrible," a cold hand touched her shoulder.

Her head jerked up to see, but found only the same grey canvas… How teasing. How dull.

"So, you are crying," the smooth voice said again.

She looked to her right and was surprised to see a person. An actual to God, real person. Perhaps, she shouldn't have been so stunned. After all, the presence of his hand on her should had never left, just her belief that he could actually exist…but how could he see her? He could see her?!

He sat there with his eyes closed but still openly looking at her. He was dressed in weird clothing. Something similar to traditional clothing found at a historical sight. He had the large hakuma and uncomfortable looking bamboo shoes. And to make things as odd as possible, his hair was somehow sticking in the air like a fluffy, spiked cube. The entirety of him had her do a double look up and down his person.

"You should stop crying," he said to her, "There's no more reason to be sad. Soon you will be in a better place."

Her eyebrows rubbed together in defense, "I'm not sad!"

His eyebrow quickly raised, but his face stayed deadpanned. This couldn't have been his first ghost encounter, she concluded.

"Then why are you still here?" And in that dismissive tone, he picked up her chain and let it fall back onto the bench, slipping from her grasp in the process. Quickly as she could, she grabbed it again and hugged I closer between her fingers, holding so tightly that she could feel future callouses forming. _Wait._ That didn't make much sense… _"Why did I do that?"_ her eyes bugged slightly.

"I…" she started, the chain began to loosen in her clutch, "I-I don't know what to feel…I feel…" She could feel his gaze on her but felt at some kind of ease. He waited patiently for her to answer, "I feel alone, dead even."

She shifted her eyes towards, her head following. He was still looking at her and it was then that she saw his eyes.

They were…what she imagined all of those shining jewels her mother brought home looked like. Something so beautiful and desirable that you would murder to keep it completely to yourself. Something unattainable without force. That is what she felt as she looked at the two jewels separated by the pointed bridge of his nose. An odd reaction to the simplest mix of greens and blues between his irises, but it was her first time experiencing it.

She felt a piece of herself glow inwardly, like a little sparkle on her heart or perhaps heartburn. A special moment and a new landmark gifted to her in the afterlife.

So engrossed in this new and overwhelming content feeling, her other senses failed her. She couldn't hear what he said. She couldn't feel what was placed in her forehead.

Instead, she placed all of her faith and trust in her sight, staring into the azure of this boy's eyes and how content it made her feel.

A smile tickled her face as she gladly accepted whatever came next.

"Thank you," it slipped from her lips as a whisper and a white light engulfed her.

* * *

 **A/N: This is a quick scene that was replaying in my head after listening to "Lost Boy" by Ruth b. I apologize if it doesn't make total sense, but that's the way it is sort of meant to be.**

 **I just imagined what it would be like if a colorblind girl was given Konso by Toushirou Histugaya after experiencing a terrible death, and the color of his eyes was the first "coloured" thing she would ever experience.**

 **Thank you for reading. Please, reiew. I enjoy hearing your thoughts and criticisms. I appreciate it greatly.**

 **May your day continue to be as lovely as you are.~**

 **\- -Alice-Isabella :3**


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